Loving You
by Deikus-Is-Hellbound
Summary: A collection of Usuk or Ukus one-shots.
1. Cherries

"Hey, Alfred, would you like some cherries?" Arthur asked, looking over to his younger friend who was lounging on his couch. He took up the entire expanse of his rather large couch, normally earning a prick of irritation from the smaller man. He even had his nasty feet on the end. He rolled his eyes. The bowl of washed fruit fit snugly in his hands; he thought he'd ask if Alfred wanted any since he couldn't eat them all by himself. Alfred looked up from whatever it was he was doing on his phone, glancing at Arthur's green emeralds.

"Uh…sure." He said, doing that thing he continuously would where he pretended to not really care whether he liked something or not, when he really did. It was slightly irritating to Arthur, but he usually ignored it. Arthur nodded curtly, walking over to the couch with the two different bowls: one with the cherries and one which was empty for the pits.

"Here," He sat down, not waiting for Alfred to move his feet, and placed the bowl with cherries on the coffee table. Alfred adjusted accordingly, sitting up. "And don't you dare spill them on my couch." He snapped, taking one by the stem and popping it into his mouth.

"Geez Arthur, don't have to treat me like a child anymore." Alfred retorted, grabbing one for himself. "I think I can manage to eat a cherry without dropping it onto your couch bro." Alfred popped the little red fruit into his mouth, not even bothering to remove the stem. Arthur frowned, spitting out the pit of his cherry.

"First off all, you are the clumsiest person I know, second of all, this couch is _white_ , and thirdly you are supposed to remove the stem dumbass." Alfred seemed to pout at the slew of insults, though it looked rather odd with the small cherry poking out of his cheek. He paused for a moment, chewing, before the stem poked its way through Alfred's lips. He pulled it out, twisting the small thing between two fingers. He then spit out the cherry pit, swallowing the last bits.

"Good lord Arthur didn't know there was a specific way you were supposed to eat cherries." He snapped in return. Arthur frowned.

"Eating the stem is bad for your digestion." He replied with a twinge of irritation. Not that Alfred really cared much about his health. Alfred shrugged.

"It's just gonna come out the other end anyway." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Really do you have to be so lewd?" Alfred snickered, reaching for another cherry.

"Lewd? You thought that was lewd? Come on bro." Arthur scoffed, wondering where he'd gone wrong. Arthur grabbed another cherry, pulling the stem off as he bit the cherry. "Hey, dude!" Alfred suddenly exclaimed, sounding suddenly excited. Arthur looked over at him, sucking the juice from the small fruit. They were the perfect ripeness. "I heard that if you can tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue, it means you're a good kisser!" He exclaimed. Arthur deadpanned, chewing on his cherry silently. Really, how childish was he? Alfred popped the stem back inside his mouth, quickly getting to work on it. Arthur spit out the pit of the cherry.

"Really Alfred, are you serious?" Alfred blinked.

"What dude? You try it!" He said with that grin that always seemed to warm Arthur's heart, no matter how ridiculous Al was being. Arthur twitched, unable to say no to that pleading face of his. He licked the red juice from his lips, and sighed in defeat.

"Oh alright." He muttered, sticking the cherry stem into his mouth as well. There were a few moments of silence that passed between the two. Arthur's cat jumped up onto the couch neatly, curling up right in between the two boys to take a nice little nap. Arthur stroked his back softly, frowning in concentration. Arthur was playing with the stem, turning it into a loop and flipping it in circles with the tip of his tongue. He wasn't having much luck tying the thing, but was getting close. He just needed to get a loose end through the loop.

Alfred, however, was poking his bottom lip out in frustration, knitting his brows together in concentration. He'd crossed his arms half way through the silence, pulling his legs up Indian style on the couch.

"Damn." He scoffed. "This is harder than it looks!" He exclaimed, removing the battered and fraying stem from his mouth. He twirled the stem between his thumb and index finger, examining it through a close eye to see if there was a reason that he couldn't possibly get the end through. Though, hearing no response from Arthur, he glanced over, to see the smaller male making a rather concentrated face, as if he was preforming open heart surgery or something. Alfred smirked triumphantly, seeing that the other couldn't do it either. "There's no way that rumor is true then…" He murmured, watching the other boy stick his fingers into his mouth.

Arthur's features softened, as he retracted his fingers from his mouth, producing a cherry stem. Alfred gaped in horror at the small stem – or perhaps it was the smug smirk on the smaller male's coy lips. Alfred blinked, nearly in disbelief at the tiny stem.

In the middle exactly, there was a tiny little knot.

Arthur smirked at the younger boy, flicking the stem into the bowl of pits.

"Yeah, not true because you can't do it." Arthur replied smartly, taking another cherry. "I didn't know you were a bad kisser Alfred, no wonder you don't have a girlfriend." Alfred clenched his jaw, now determined to get the cherry stem in a knot with his tongue.

"Bullshit! This stem was too short!" He retorted childishly. He dug around the bowl of cherries desperately, searching for the holy grail of cherry stems- one that was long.

"Sure Alfred," Arthur said, plucking a cherry with a short stem from the bowl, and getting to work on it. The thought of how childish the whole thing was faded from his mind as he strove to always prove Alfred wrong.

"It was!" He insisted, finding his holy grail. He shoved the cherry in his mouth, not even bothering to enjoy the taste. He swallowed the cherry, spitting out the pit as quickly as possible before pushing the stem into his mouth once again.

Arthur was already pushing the stem through the loop as Alfred set to work. He bit the end, pulling the loop back with his tongue. He pushed it out of his lips again, showing Alfred his absolute victory.

"Too short my arse." He retorted with a sneer. Alfred huffed as he sat with a determined face on Arthur's couch, trying in a futile attempt to prove to Arthur that was indeed, not a bad kisser. "Beat at your own game again, Alfred. Really, before you challenge someone to something like this you should make sure you can win."

"What?! How was I supposed to know your tongue was an extreme contortionist?!" Arthur chuckled.

"You forget that I've been around a long time. It's not unreasonable to think I've kissed someone before is it?" Arthur asked with a lick of the lips. He popped the cherry into his mouth, taking his time to eat it this time.

"Oh, so you were a slut in the fifteen-hundreds then?" Arthur inhaled in shock, nearly choking on the small red fruit. He couched, getting it far away from his trachea as possible. Alfred snickered at the dramatic reaction from the older man.

"You prat!" He smacked Alfred on the head, earning a whining 'ow!'. "No I was not a slut!" He spit out the pit, grabbing another cherry. "I just wasn't nearly as deprived as you are."

"I'm not deprived! I've kissed plenty of girls!" Arthur frowned.

"And you say I'm the slut." Alfred sighed in defeat. There was no beating the brit's twisted logic.

"I can do this." Alfred pouted on the other end of the couch, determined to get the stem in a knot.

"Sure you can." Arthur replied halfheartedly, taking another cherry from the bowl. The Brit relaxed into the couch, eating yet another cherry. They were about halfway gone now. At least they weren't wasted. He hated wasted food.

Just to humor Alfred, he began tying the others in knots as well. He produced the first one, showing him.

"Alfred, I don't think you're going to get it. It's just a silly rumor. Forget about it." He replied.

"No!" Alfred insisted. "You're going to go around telling people that I use too much tongue or something!" Arthur couldn't help but snicker, unbeknownst to him that there was more to it than just Alfred's ability to tie a cherry stem in a knot with his tongue.

"Sure Alfred, while you sit off in a corner trying to tie a cherry stem in a knot for the rest of eternity." Arthur replied, taking another cherry. He popped it in his mouth, speaking carefully around it. "Really, you don't have to be ashamed if you are a bad kisser-"Arthur never got to finish that sentence, however. His chin had been jerked quickly to the side, and a pair of lips crashed onto his. He sat there with wide eyes, frozen there in shock. The red juice of the cherry dribbled down his chin, and probably Alfred's too. Long slender fingers gently held his chin, the other gently placed on his neck like the touch of a longtime friend – or lover. He was astonished. Al's lips were soft, and the faint taste of cherries lingered on them. The breath was hot in his mouth, nearly making him shiver. It wasn't long before Alfred slipped his tongue across the Brit's lower lip teasingly.

The kiss lasted longer than he would've expected, and yet he still wasn't pulling back from the boy in front of him. Time froze there. Somehow Arthur had been cast into a dream where there was no sun outside, no white couch beneath him which was now stained with red, cherry juice, and there was no cat mewling between the two of them. There was only him an Alfred, kissing.

Arthur couldn't bring himself to move, or do anything really. Alfred's surprise attack had broken his brain. He couldn't comprehend what was happening – or rather he didn't know how to respond to it, or how it could've happened in the first place. Alfred was certainly fine with that, taking over the completely submissive man entirely. He was leaning forward, so much so that their chests were a breath's touch away. The embrace was only deepened when he moved ever so gently to the side, smirking triumphantly.

Alfred finally pulled back, swiping his tongue over Arthurs cherry stained lips on last time with a sly grin. Arthur was struck dumb still, unable to respond at all.

He was surprised that Al had actually kissed him, but that wasn't what held him still. He couldn't really discern what it was that kept him star struck. Was it that he had let it happen or was it that he - dare he say it- enjoyed it?

He didn't know, but…

Alfred may not be able to tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue, but he was a damn good kisser.

4


	2. Living in a Memory

Alfred's mind wandered off, lost in a sea of elusive thoughts. He chased after them relentlessly, wondering just when he had become so detached from reality and so devoted to his mind. As the rickety train ride attempted to lull him to sleep, he stared non-committedly out the window, his brain finally grasping a precious wisp of memory from the deep recesses of long forgotten files. A certain mysterious pair of bottle green eyes blinked before him, followed quickly by a sharp glare sent his way. Soon, as his own lids drooped closed, he was engulfed in the ocean spray and the pattering rain, warping back to the exact time and place of the incident – England, Blackpool. It was late, on a summer's night. The rain had just started to fall lightly on the sandy beach and the waves washed rhythmically up on the sand, threatening to engulf Alfred's new loafers he only wore on business trips. That night hadn't exactly been a business trip. He had booked his hotel an extra day to see the Blackpool Grand Theatre, maybe sightsee a little; just explore the foreign city a little longer without having to be bound to his duties as a consultant.

He had been wondering around on the beach after the show, not particularly bothered by the light rain that could possibly ruin the delicately polished leather of his shoes. Besides, he decided, if water was going to ruin them it would be the approaching tide, not the rain. With his hands stuffed into his suit pockets he trudged along, not worrying about the plane he was bound to miss in the morning, or the foamy ocean that slithered around his shoes, not even worrying about the previous meal he had missed. No, he had become rather sullen that afternoon, not wanting to depart so soon. Nothing awaited him back in America, nothing but tall office buildings and wheel barrows of paperwork – not to mention a full page report to write. It was exhausting, and Alfred was, quite frankly, fed up with his job – no. Alfred was fed up with his life in general. He lived alone in a small apartment on the sixteenth floor for almost five years now. It was barely big enough to fit in a flat screen television, let alone a Christmas tree. He had no family to speak of, besides a distant brother whom he rarely called, and his friends were really only his co-workers trying to get a leg- up in the corporate food-chain. He was becoming distinctly aware of just how lonely his life was, and just how much he hated it. He missed travelling, he missed talking to people without having them wondering how they could use him to get promoted, and he missed celebrating things with his brother like a real family was supposed to. He just wanted to stay in England a little while longer, and he wanted to live like he was just a stupid tourist for the rest of his god forsaken life if that meant that he didn't have to return to the forlorn sixteenth floor and settle down in front of his flat screen with take out or a bag of Mickey Dee's by himself for yet another night.

So, it was with a heavy heart when Alfred plodded along the dampening sand. Soon, the wind howled, and the clouds were peeing with chilly rain. Even his persistent piece of hair on his part couldn't resist the obstructive force of the rain, and stuck slickly to his forehead. Still retaining a sense to preserve his new clothes, he dashed forward to take refuge beneath an overhanging cement bridge. He shook his head, letting the water droplets fly from his soaking head as if he were a sopping wet dog coming out of a distasteful bath. With a sigh that was neither annoyed nor contented he stared out at the dreary scene before him and wondered if he was destined for anything greater than his menial job at the corporation. He leaned back against the cold cement, finding no comfort in its embrace, and stuffing his fretful hands deep into his silk-lined pockets. Swirling tides surged upward on the shore in a blurred fury, attacking the ebbing sand with their foul temper. The whole place looked dreary, but Alfred couldn't help but find that he rather enjoyed the foul weather. The isolation it provided along with the creeping chill was something that he never got back in the city, and to be quite honest, it suited his mood perfectly just then. He watched the rain cascade down into the roaring sea angrily, and the entire earth was dunked in blue as far as he could see. The rain's scent was fresh in his nostrils and the wind was just hard enough to move his wet hair off his neck. It was peaceful and chaotic and just what he needed. As he closed his eyes, he could feel the stress slipping off his chest, and he could feel the huge, gangly knot of discontent loosening within his stomach as the rain washed all of his problems from his mind.

"Ello, hope you don't mind if I share this bridge with you." A quiet voice interrupted his serenity. Alfred picked his head up from the cement, forcing his tired eyes open. A drenched, blonde man stood before him, shaking his briefcase free off excess water droplets. But, the peculiar thing was, the man was not dressed for carrying a briefcase. He was donned in a t-shirt of the union jack and some shorts with a pair of lazy looking flops. Over all he seemed as if he had just dashed out of the house, but Alfred didn't exactly know the man – and therefore couldn't judge the circumstance.

"Nah dude, I don't mind." The shorter man looked up at him with a newer, calculating gaze. He looked back to the rain, which was now so thick that you could not even see three feet out. Alfred cocked his head to the side, looking out at the atrocious weather himself. A new thought provoked his mind, however, when the shorter man shivered, his shirt stuck to his slight frame indignantly, and the white parts were largely see through. He pursed his lips, somehow curious about this new stranger, perhaps because he merely had nothing else to wonder about, or think about that brought him any reprieve from his current status back home. "But," He started again, trying to not sound too nosy – not that he really cared anyway. "What are you doing dressed like that in this weather?" The man turned to look at him, and for the first time Alfred noticed just how green the shorter man's eyes were. Maybe the rain accentuated the color, as rain often did with the shade of green, but Alfred nearly did a double take at the vibrant hue.

"Well my prick of a brother asked me to drop off his briefcase, so I wasn't planning to come outside…" He glared up at the sky. "But then again I wasn't planning on a monsoon either." He muttered. Alfred chuckled in understanding.

"Yeah, I understand. I wonder when it's going to let up." He asked more rhetorically than anything else, and peeking his head out from under the bridge for just a second. His glasses were instantly clouded with fat drops and he was forced to pull back beneath the bridge as the hard water started dripping in his eyes. He removed his glasses, wiping them off on his shirt.

"So, what are you all dressed up for?" The shorter man asked, lowering into the sand. Alfred followed suit, sitting with his back flush against the cement.

"I was at the theatre, but I left early." The blonde let out a soft _'oh'_ as he tossed the brown briefcase aside. He straightened his back, looking rather uncomfortable. Alfred smiled to himself, slightly amused. "I'm Alfred," He added. "By the way." The green eyed man nodded, crossing his arms over his chest with a shiver.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland," He replied, looking out into the distant rain. Alfred noted how soft the man spoke; as if he would shatter one's ear drums if he raised it just a little. Arthur shoved his hands beneath his armpits in a last attempt at warmth. Alfred watched him wordlessly, and wondered if it would be weird or offensive if he offered his new companion his jacket. He didn't really need it, and he felt bad for the scrawny, poorly dressed man before him, and not because he felt he was lesser off than him, but merely because he was just what some people called 'kind hearted.' He called it a guilty conscious, but that was another matter entirely. As he mulled over the potential outcomes of each option, the man adjusted beneath the bridge, casting a weary gaze around the area. The silence was suffocating Alfred, as he was sure it was doing to Arthur as well, from the tight look on his face. He gnawed on his lip in uncertainty. He certainly didn't want the shorter man to be cold, but he didn't want a pissed off or offended Brit on his hands either. Especially when they were stuck together under the bridge with absolutely no way of telling when the rain would relent enough to let them both part their separate ways. Alfred decided that it couldn't hurt to ask the man.

"Okay Arthur," He started. "You look cold," He started, pulling the suit jacket from his shoulders. He offered the black jacket to the smaller man. "Take my coat." Alfred shot him a smile, though he knew his heart wasn't in it. Arthur stared at him, and his gaze slowly shifted from confusion to contempt.

"What, do you think I'm a bloody girl?!" He spat, glaring at him gruffly. Alfred just smirked at his hostility. Quite honestly, he wished he could be so outwardly honest like that. He'd have lost his job by now though.

"No," He replied with a smirk. "I just thought that you looked cold, and frankly, two layers were getting a bit warm for me." He shrugged, laying the jacket on the sand. "Just tryin' to be nice bro." The Briton gave him a reproachful glare as he turned his back to Alfred. A few moments of silence passed between the two. Alfred stared out at the rain discomfited at the stagnant awkward atmosphere that had blossomed between him and his new companion Arthur Kirkland. It was interesting how this had happened, but, Alfred thought, the Brit wasn't exactly the greatest company to have when stuck under a bridge in the pouring rain. Despite the unsociable atmosphere, Alfred felt that he couldn't have gotten better company. Sure, the Brit was a bit prude, but Alfred respected that – and he wasn't so bad to look at either. The way his wet hair stuck to his face was sort of cute and across the bridge of his nose there was a light band of freckles– and that t-shirt was clinging to his frame rather perfectly, showing the seamless balance of lean muscle and body fat.

Alfred's mouth twitched in a slight smirk. No, his company wasn't so bad.

He heard an irritable scoff, and his jacket was snatched from the ground hastily, and draped over the smaller man's shoulders. He nearly drowned in it, and the completely begrudging look on his face was sorely priceless. Alfred bit off a laugh, quite unsuccessfully as a snicker escaped his lips. Instantly the Brit turned to him furiously, but upon meeting Alfred's jovial blue eyes, his hard jade ones softened slightly; until the uptight Brit's traitorous mouth twitched upward. Alfred caught the slight, involuntary movement, and despite himself, despite his gloomy mood, and the unfortunate circumstances, and despite everything else shitty that had happened to him in the past few years; he felt the overwhelming urge to laugh. Alfred, notwithstanding his personal beliefs, had a magnificent laugh. It was a booming laugh that would surely start an avalanche in if he were in a canyon. As he belted out in jolly laughter, Arthur couldn't help but stare at the azure – eyed idiot before him. He was laughing _at _him. Somehow though, Arthur couldn't find the will to be angry at him. He was momentarily transferred somewhere else, somewhere where he had met Alfred under better circumstances, and somewhere where he could hear that laugh anytime he wished to. But, as the American burst out into another, chest relieving round of peeling laughs, Arthur snapped back to reality, giving the other man his rapt attention.

It didn't matter where he had met him, or under what circumstances, because they had met, no matter how dim the situation, the American seemed to be enjoying himself just as he would on a sunny day. Arthur felt his irritation lighten slightly, and he afforded a small smile. Maybe the situation wasn't so terrible after all.

"Oooh." Alfred sighed contentedly, flopping down in the damp sand. He didn't really care about his clothes anymore, and sand could easily be washed out. "I really needed that." He murmured, looking up at the dank ceiling above him. He heard scuffling, and sure enough Arthur had scooted closer slightly, peering over at him curiously.

"What brings you to England?" He asked passively, like he didn't really care and was just making pleasant conversation – which was probably true. Alfred was grateful for the effort at all, so he answered chipperly, suddenly feeling like he used to five years ago- happy and free and lucky and living life to its fullest. It was odd, he decided, odd that of all places, he was having a good time underneath a bridge in the pouring rain talking to a total stranger who was sort of rude. Albeit a cute stranger, but a stranger all the same. Even so, he answered with one of his winning smiles.

"I was here on a business trip, but I took an extra day."

"Ah." Was all he said. Alfred sat up, pulling his legs to sit Indian style. "Well I am sorry you have to be here in such bad weather." He offered, looking away from Alfred's face. Alfred blinked at him, and couldn't help but smile. This guy was really interesting, and lifted his mood.

"Ah, it's not so bad, plus, I got to meet you, so it wasn't a complete loss." The Brit's gaze snapped back to his, his face engulfed in a thick red sheet. Alfred chuckled. If he could have, he would have picked that precise moment to live in for eternity. He would have stayed just like that, with the crisp spell of the rain filling his nose, and the pleasant sight of the man's cute blushing face in front of him. They could stay there forever in that pristine moment. He wouldn't have to go back to America to live in solitude, he wouldn't have to hate his life, and he wouldn't have to spend another birthday, Thanksgiving, or Christmas alone.

Alfred's eyes snapped back open, with the memory of those bottle green eyes fading from his vision. He sighed in his solemn mood as rain pattered against his window. He had gone back to the city, and he did still hate his life- wrapped in corporate chain after corporate chain. He was suffocating here, unable to move, or even socialize without the rattle alerting someone of his actions. He had moved up in the food chain – he was almost on top of it now, but it was killing him. Alfred was a caged bird longing to stretch his wings, but lost the room necessary to do so.

Right now, in about ten minutes actually, he would be arriving at the airport to travel to England once more – though not to his newfound loved town of Blackpool. He was going to London this time. He wished, secretly, that he would see Arthur Kirkland once more and maybe that the man would remember him from their encounter so long ago. It had ended nicely, and Alfred had spent the rest of the day with the man. He'd even met the guy's prick older brother- and the guy wasn't kidding when he said he was a prick. And he smelled of cigarettes. Arthur had showed him around, and they had even gone to dinner. He'd have to remember Alfred, because Alfred never did get his jacket back.

The train lurched to an abrupt halt, making Alfred jerk forward. He sighed, and collected his things as he shuffled down the snail's pace aisle. He sighed, rubbing the soreness out of the back of his neck. Would he ever be happy like then? Or would he just shuffle through the rest of his miserable life living in that memory? He didn't know, and it left him in a bitter mood.

As his loafers scuffled against the cement of the train station's floor and he lifted his tired gaze up to the surrounding area. Just as he glanced forward, a hurried figure rushed by, and he could've sworn he had seen a glimpse of bottle green eyes. Alfred stared wide-eyed after the mop of sandy blonde hair. The oh so important muscle in his chest halted in its tracks, and his brain seemed to completely lose all function. His mind ticked slowly, wondering whether he should go along to his flight or abandon his duties and chase after the man who maybe could change his miserable life.

What was he thinking? He dropped his bags, bolting after the shorter man without a coherent thought.

"ARTHUR!" He called. "ARTHUR KIRKLAND!" He waved, running as fast as his legs could take him. The rest seemed to happen in slow motion for Alfred. The staring passerby were gone, their useless prattle was white noise against his ears, even the trains were gone as an inexplicable light seemed to shine behind the Brit's slow turning form. Wide, bottle green eyes landed tenderly on him, first in a glare and then softening to a warm gaze.

Living for real was definitely better than living in a memory.

6


End file.
